Reality Check
by S.N. Rainsworth
Summary: Stories don't always end with a happy ending, and sometimes the darkness lingers longer than you think. Daniel learns these facts well as he walks down the path to recovery from his experience in Brennenburg Castle.
1. chapter i: Burnt

**..:: Reality Check ::..  
**_By: S.N. Rainsworth  
_

* * *

A/N - This story is undergoing major editing, but is, in fact, being continued. The prologue and first chapter has been meshed to create one larger chapter, but chapter two will be kept as is and chapter three is currently in progress. Thank you all for those who have put this story on alert. :)

_Edited: May 31st, 2012._

* * *

_life's lines between / dreams and reality / are erased.  
_

* * *

** Chapter I:  
**_Burnt_

* * *

When Daniel was able to escape the castle of Brennenburg, the first thing he did was breathe. Because breathing gave him at least a small sense of security; that, and the fact that there was no nightmare-defying monster was chasing him with the intention to kill him, or a mad, brainwashing old Baron to force him to murder and torture innocents, or maybe it was the fact that there was _light _outside, there was living and there was sun, it could've been any.

There was the relief, at least. There was no cold, shivering, tingling feeling up and down his arms, the gasps of terrified breaths when the dark was too dark and there was something behind him.

No.

No more.

The castle of Brennenburg was held upon a great, gigantic hill, surrounded by shrubbery and trees, yet the ground was dry and barren, the animals seemingly to have fled. The air had a tinge of summer in it, but honestly - Daniel wasn't sure what day, what year, what time he was in anymore. How much did the world change with his absence? How much time had passed?

His feet walked in an easy rhythm; almost as if they knew the path down to the tiny village at the foot of the hill. To retribution.

The sight of livelihood was almost too much. It must've been midday, because the street corners and cobblestones were full of people, real, _living _people. People with smiles on their faces and laughs bubbling out of their chest, not screams. Not dying. No, they were _alive, _untainted, so alluring that Daniel wanted to reach out and see if he could join.

Of course, to reach the bottom of the hill was long and the journey was rocky; but he didn't stop, his mind focused solely on water, on food, on life.

When he made it to his destination, he looked around the place with one last, soulful glance, and fell in an unceremonious heap to the floor.

* * *

"Whoa there, mate. You've had quite a fall. Take it easy."

_Soothing, _was the first thing that Daniel felt himself thinking. His limbs were stiff, and when he opened his eyes, the light of the window blinded him for a second before he could see properly.

Beside him was a boy, just reaching his teenage years it seemed, with bright eyes and light hair. He had a patched up, worn-out pageboy hat on his head, the clothing of his breeches covered in ink and fingerprints that didn't seem washed. Neither was his shirt or his vest.

Daniel grunted. "Who're you?"

"I'm just a regular guy whose mamma sent 'im to take care a ya'." he grinned. Daniel suspected, in his hazy fog of a mind, a slight accent. Southern, it was. How did he not notice? It was vaguely familiar - ah, yes. The prisoners. They had that accent. Immediately, his mind cleared, and he grimaced before shoving the memories out, somewhat unsuccessfully. The boy frowned. "You okay there, mate?"

"I'm fine," he muttered. Then, sitting up slightly, he looked to the boy. "I'm Daniel." His voice was hoarse in his throat; it was such a long time since he'd last introduced himself.

But the boy didn't look fazed - instead, he smiled. "I'm John. Nice to meet you Daniel. Say, I'm just a tad curious; what were ya' doin' in Brennenburg?"

At his words, Daniel stiffened. John seemed to notice this and hastily made a move to correct his mistake. "I - I mean, you don't have ta' answer. Me and my ma' just saw you comin' down from that big 'ol hill up there, and then you just'a passed out in the road. A 'course, the stories about that castle is a mighty scary. No one who went in ever came out, and a lotta people were captured this year and never came back. So a lot of people were really hesitant to help ya'. But you look like a fine guy."

_I'm not. I tortured. I killed. Get away from me. _But Daniel didn't say those things. He just nodded mutely. "I was," he started, voice still coarse. "I was there for a summon. I had...I had no idea what would happen to me..." At least it was the truth. But he feared he could never say the events that took place at Brennenburg ever again; even being near it, even being in Prussia, made him uneasy.

John nodded sympathetically. "I get it, mate. You were pretty scratched up when we found ya'." Daniel almost burst out in hysterical laughter. They thought that he was the _prisoner, _not the _warden _that he really was. But he wasn't.

"I guess." he coughed into his fist. "I feel pretty bad."

"Aah, that should be the medicine knockin' in," John stood up and brushed off fake lint from his trousers. "I'll be back in a minute; mum's got dinner ready for ya'."

As John left, Daniel's head lay back down on his pillow. It was almost surreal, this feeling of being taken care of. The darkness had taken over his mind to an extreme degree; to be this warm, this bathed in light, it was almost...frightening.

He had the inexplicable urge to see his sister's face.

_No. Later. I'll see her...when I can see myself._

"Here we are!" Daniel's head snapped up as he noticed not the sound of John's voice, which he had been quickly accustomed to, but the sound of a feminine voice. Old and matured, almost motherly, it belonged to a woman who looked the same as she sounded. With features that were undoubted John's, Daniel concluded that this was his mother.

"Well, here you are, dear." she said, placing the tray beside his bed, on the night table. "You seem a bit peckish."

"Thank you," he croaked out.

She smiled. "No problem, not one at all! Oh, and you can call me Cristina, hun. John tells me your name is Daniel?" To this, he nodded. "Well, alright, Daniel. You're about twenty pounds underweight, you look like you've gone through a sewer, and your clothes are all muddy." she raised an eyebrow at him, and Daniel was fleetingly remembered of his mother.

"Sorry, ma'am." he mumbled, a furious flush across his face. Cristina sighed.

"Now, don't be sorry," she scolded good-naturedly. "You've been through more, I'm sure, with the horrors up in Brennenburg. You just rest until you feel all better and until your wounds heal, got it?"

Daniel nodded again and Cristina left with a smile.

_The horrors up in Brennenburg. _

Oh, if only they knew.

* * *

Daniel was taken in by a baker family, as he soon found out. The home he was in was a little cottage, warm and on the outskirts of the market, which was part of a town called "Humdurn". Odd name for a town, but these Prussians were foreign people.

For about a day and a half that he'd been in the house, Daniel was often in his room, looking out the window, seemingly lost in space. John would drop by, and so would Cristina, but neither could get him to speak or acknowledge them more than a grunt or a small 'thank you' in that English accent of his.

"Leave the matter alone," his mother had told him in low tones in the hall. "It's that man's business, business that we've got no right going into."

But that doesn't stop curiosity from plaguing his mind. John saw this man as an enigma; silent, brooding, tall and broad, wonderful like a hero. His hair, although dirty and matted and tied back sloppily, was chocolate brown and long enough to be considered 'long enough'. His eyes, they were sunken and hollow, but behind them was some sort of mysterious presence that picked at John's conscience. He observed people for a life's day; and it was what he did best, so he would continue doing so.

When it was evening, about six after the sun set, he quietly made his way to the stranger - Daniel's, his inner self chided - room. His mother was asleep with her afternoon siesta, and his father was still in the bakery. Little baby Kathy was still in her world of dreams.

"Mister Daniel?" he called softly. Opening the door a smidgen to see if Daniel was awake yet, John swallowed and stepped back a little when he caught the look of Daniel looking straight toward the door, seemingly at him.

But there was something _wrong _in his stare.

Almost like he couldn't see John himself, just a hazy fog in front of him, a shroud in front of his eyes that he couldn't remove. Still, it was unnerving; having soulless eyes look straight at him and yet not.

Opening the door fully now, he walked careful steps toward the British man's bed. Daniel didn't notice or he simply didn't care.

"Mister Daniel," he whispered. "Mister Daniel!"

Neither seeming to hear him and dozing off into his own world, John frowned and snapped his fingers in front of Daniel's face. No luck. Thinking hard for a moment and then hesitating once his mind _did _bear something, he idly wondered why it was his goal now to bring Mister Daniel back into the world of living. He placed a hesitant hand of Daniel's shoulder, and before he could shake, the man jumped as if he was electrocuted. John jerked his hand back.

"Mister...Daniel?" he asked uncertainly.

Daniel raised a rough, calloused hand to the left side of his face, cold, frigid fingers dusting his cheek. "I'm sorry," he murmured, but John somehow got the feeling that still, he wasn't in their world currently; but rather a world all his own, locked in his own mind, reliving his old memories. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Muttering this phrase over and over, John fell down helplessly in the nearby chair as Daniel buried his face in his hands and repeated it again and again. To some unknown entity, maybe from a particularly bad vision that crawled it's way into his mind.

John couldn't do anything but sit there, stay, and wait for Daniel to realize that he wasn't alone.

And eventually, he did. About five minutes later, removing his hands from his face and letting them fall limply into his lap, staring at them. Eyes wide, he looked at them as if there was something he wished to get rid of. John didn't understand, but something told him that he shouldn't _want _to understand.

"Are you alright, Mister Daniel?"

Daniel started a little, but looked over to the blonde haired boy with trepidation in his gaze. "I'm alright, John."

John looked unconvinced. "You certainly weren't acting fine."

Looking back to his hands, he said in a low voice, "I'm fine. Just fine. You should go, it's late. And I don't want to impose on your mother." John realized this as a 'please leave', hidden in the subtle excuse of his mother. So he bid Daniel a good, fair night and left the room.

* * *

Daniel woke up feeling, in no other simpler words, like shit.

Having the odd feeling of his body being separate from his mind, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up wobbily, placing a hand on the wall to steady himself. He jerked his hand back as the familiar texture of wallpaper peeling grooved over his fingertips.

Mentally, he scolded himself. _All houses have wallpaper, Daniel! Stop acting so scared. _But no matter what his (apparently) brave inner voice said, the feeling of familiarity both stunned Daniel and scared him. The first place he thought of was Brennenburg, not home like he was supposed to. He shouldn't be thinking of Brennenburg at first touches of _real life _- Brennenburg wasn't home. No. No. It wasn't.

It was a good five minutes before he made himself move and grab the rubber band on the desk near his bed to tie his hair at the nape of his neck. Strands fell in front of his eyes still, and he shoved them away impatiently.

He also noticed that he was still in his old clothes; dark brown trousers he borrowed from the castle's wardrobes, bleached white button-down shirt that was faintly covered in blood, and his shoes; still the same old pair he used when he came to Prussia at first.

Speaking of Prussia, Daniel looked out the small window that the room contained. Prussia was also very beautiful, with the grass the color of fresh wheat, skies of endless blue and trees that really did grow tall and shimmered in autumn colors. Daniel made the mental calculations; he would be in late August now, so it was no surprise Prussia was getting the weather early. He didn't take time to observe his reflection in the mirror; he knew the travesty that would only scar him.

"Mister Daniel?" John was at the door, with the same clothes as yesterday, his hair a little bit more uncombed. "Momma says it's time for breakfast."

Idly, as Daniel followed John in a half-daze, he wondered what caused the boy to be more wary around him. Two days ago, John was bouncing, eager as a puppy and always smiling, speaking his mind. Yesterday, John hadn't come to visit him at all, which Daniel found himself saddened by for some reason. He supposed it had something to do with what he said on the fortnight; surely, he had let something slip, something that scared John.

"Thank you," he said at the breakfast table. Cristina was bustling around, and her husband - the kind baker, Daniel remembered - was no where to be seen. John had disappeared after wolfing his breakfast down, to the calls of his name outside and a warning from his mother not to get too close to the sheep.

Cristina smiled and waved her spatula at him. "Now, I'd accept your thanks if you actually _eat _instead looking at the food, m'boy," she joked. Daniel smiled faintly, and took a fork and knife from a weaved basket in the middle of the table holding cutlery.

Cristina observed his automatic movements like a hawk; even Daniel himself didn't seem to be aware of what he was doing. "Are you planning to go home soon, Daniel?" she said offhandedly.

Daniel started, a little surprised. He adopted a small, confused look on his face, almost as if he was mentally uncoordinated. "I-I suppose. I have family back in London..." Yes, yes. Family. Hazel. He still had his little sister, his darling little sister who still waited for his return. How old would she be now? Would she have a love? Would she be living on her own, cured? Or is she still being looked over? How long had passed? Time was almost nothing of the essence when trapped in a dark hole with no way out.

"London?" Cristina frowned. "Why, that's a pretty expensive train ride. Five days. Do you have the money for it, lad?"

The thought of money never crossed his mind. During his time in Brennenburg, everything was given to him, and he had forgotten what it was like before - working for money, saving up and using it wisely on food and clothes and bills, and other necessities. Daniel allowed himself a hazy dreadful look on his face. "Why, no. I didn't...I didn't think of that. I'm...broke, sad to say. I don't really know where I can get a job now."

The rest of the meal passed in silence, as Cristina didn't provide any more conversation afterward. But when she was in the middle of cleaning up, Daniel could hear her soft voice say to him, "Well, I think I can get Mark to accept a sweeper for the bakery. It'll be slow going, and the money isn't the great, but in about a few months, you'll be able to save up a lot, I reckon. Especially if you do other odd jobs."

Daniel thought it over, the normalcy of the situation and how abrupt it was from the supernatural, horrific events that took place three days ago finally ebbing on his conscience. "It sounds like a wonderful idea. Thank you." And along with escaping, he had seemed to luckily remember the manners he'd learned in fear of being beaten by..._him._

Cristina's warm smile distracted him from unpleasant thoughts, which Daniel was highly thankful for.

* * *

He was allowed to start as soon as he could, which was in the evening while John was away at school. His father, Mark, was a broad man with russet colored skin and dark hair, a contrast to his wife's blonde. But along with that, he had a heavy set voice that soothed Daniel's frazzled nerves.

"Well, all you have to do is sweep the floors every once in a while after we've had a rush of customers," directed Mark during the first hour of Daniel's new job. "And you can wipe the tables and the counter. Think you can do that, m'boy?" Daniel nodded. Despite his lanky nature, Mark was a good four inches over him.

"Alright, good then!" Mark slapped Daniel on the back lightly. It still stung. "I'll leave it to you."

Rubbing the shoulder slightly, Daniel took the small broom from the back room where he was shown earlier and began to sweep, feeling his new job was a little too close to his duties of his old one. At least it was crumbs and wax wrappers instead of blood and entrails.

He had worked his hardest; that way, he had discovered of his one-track mind, and how he could keep his mind off past hauntings. He could pretend, at least, that he was healing, that he was recovering. That he was accepting himself into the world again, but except he wasn't really, on the inside.

"Excuse me, Mister," Daniel looked up from wiping the counter to a russet haired woman. She smiled tentatively at him. "C-could you g-give me a l-loaf of t-t-the s-sweet bread?" Daniel nodded simply, promising himself to be as much as a wallflower as possible. But then the woman blushed. "I-I'm so s-sorry about my speech. I-I have a s-slight s-stuttering problem."

"It's not a big deal," he said under his breath, and he saw her blink slightly at his accent. A long forgotten emotion, irritation, crept it's way into his mind; was his accent really all _that _foreign? He called for Mark, who took the circular bread and covered it in wax paper before putting it in a brown bag. The woman handed a small amount of paper money into his hand, and walked back out. Mark called after her, "Have a good day, Miss Lila!" Lila, which was presumably the girl's name, waved back in return, a good natured act.

Daniel continued on with his day, also learning quickly from Mark which breads were which just in case he was in the back baking and a customer came by, no matter how patient they were. He also learned the currency system, while his head was still in pounds and euros. Daniel learned very quick - and if it was one thing he prided himself in, it was that he was a quick learner.

The end of the day came closer than he thought, reminding him of how volatile time was. Everything just seemed to remind him of Brennenburg, how it's dark halls and unholy moans at every door just seemed so far away from the warm scents of the bakery, even though it was just a mere five days ago. Four days he had stayed in these nice people's care, recovering, but felt as though he hadn't truly recovered yet.

A friendly pat on the back snapped him out of his daze. Odd, he'd been having those quite often. Mark tipped his hat toward Daniel, and before the Englishman could voice his surprise, Mark was upright once again. "It does me great relief to have someone working here alongside with me. Thank you, Mister Daniel. I suppose we should be heading back now - Crissie's got food on the stove, I bet..."

Daniel nodded emptily and followed.

* * *

He was given the choice to eat at the table with the rest of the family (which, he learned, contained two more daughters by the age of fifteen and eighteen respectively) but he returned back into the guest room. His head hit the pillow, and the tray beside his bed was left untouched of it's food.

_Henry Bedloe was a bully in all sense of the word; he was angry, with a sour face and always a sad glint in his eyes that didn't belong to a child. He had coarse brown hair and a small mouth and big eyes, but he was nothing if not anything but just a regularly lonely person. Henry Bedloe was a bully who gave scars and who had scars that couldn't have been possibly made by tripping or falling. _

_Henry Bedloe was so much like him, that Daniel tried not to think about it. _

_The dark hallways of Brennenburg castle always had something abhorrent about it; the castle itself was falling into pieces, held up by it's seve, small foundations. The roof might cave in any minute. A door might break. That side of the wall needs to be fixed. There was no electricity, no small pieces of life that could make one feel at least a little safer. _

_The darkness was unnatural, and the candlelight really didn't help much. There was a lantern...many, in fact, but when needed they disappeared like the rest of the world around him. _

_Too large, too big, too free. He wanted to be chained, to be kept in one place and not everywhere. Not here. Not there. No, not anywhere - out. He wanted out. He had wanted out so many times - out from the home, out from life, out from school, out from living, out from dying, out from the shadows. But they were things that followed him and held him in their grasp. _

_He could shake off the cold that tickled his skin if he concentrated hard enough. Usually, he didn't have to when he was around the Baron of the castle; Alexander, who seemed to hold a firm hold of reality that was always welcome to Daniel. _

_"Alexander, what is happiness?" he asked one day. They were both in the Archives, going through some old records and studied. Rather, the Baron was, and he was there sitting in a corner and waiting for him to finish. Daniel followed Alexander everywhere unless told not to, like a good little puppy. That day, Alexander had looked at him oddly for a second before looking back at his papers. _

_"I don't understand what you're going with this, Daniel." he had said in that gravelly monotone voice of his. Daniel furrowed his brow. _

_"Happiness. You know, when you feel all cheery. Do you know what it is exactly?" _

_Alexander, to Daniel's surprise, didn't glare at him and order him to be quiet as he usually did when Daniel asked stupid, irrelevant questions. The Baron put the papers down on a table and frayed the edge of a corner, looking uncharacteristically distant and somewhat frazzled. _

_"It depends." he answered finally. Curt, short to the point and leaving him with more questions; an Alexander-like thing to do. "Come Daniel. It's time for lunch. The food will get cold." _

_Daniel didn't think that he could talk to Henry Bedloe and find out what made him happy. Because he surely didn't know what made himself happy._

The 24-year old male woke up with a headache. It wasn't morning, even, and Daniel placed his head in his hands and let himself think over the memory that appeared before him in his dream. The even faces of Henry Bedloe and Alexander made his chest ache.

For some reason, he still didn't know what could make him happy now either.


	2. chapter ii: Brazen

**..:: Reality Check ::..  
**_By - Summer Spent In Pandemonium_

* * *

A/N - I lost the will to continue this story, really, and I thought about just fucking it over and leaving it alone. BUT... then came the life saving sequel of **Amnesia: Justine, **which effectively scared me out of my right mind. Lovely story. Lovely character. Fucked up ending.

_A little dedication to Annie, who was with me over the phone and comforted me as I muffled my screams and made fun of Mr. Jingles for me. You rule. Even thought we were both creeped. XD_

* * *

_"With virtue pretending  
love as our ending  
we'll fall by the light of the moon..." _

* * *

**C h a p t e r Two: Brazen**

* * *

It was a week before any of them could get Daniel smiling. And even then, it was a small smile, barely bringing up the corners of his mouth. Still, it was a smile, or at least the beginning of one. Somehow, the family of Mark had made it their goal to get the sullen, burdened young man to become happy, even for a moment. He was just brooding around the place, even if he was helpful. It worried both Mark and Cristina.

Not enough to get Daniel to help, however. Daniel was often confined to the spaces of his guest room, his only belonging the mole-skin pouch by his side that was no larger than his fist. He kept his money in there. So far, it was half of enough to take a train out of Prussia and into France, before taking a boat back to London. He had started to wonder; how exactly had he gotten to Brennenburg? The distance between Algeria and Prussia was so large, and his memories were fuzzy.

Often, Daniel didn't talk, but only worked. His hands were rough and inappropriate for baker's hands, Mark said. It was a shame, too. Baking had some kind of life to it; almost like with every bread, you could see the hard work the maker put into it. Daniel couldn't stop staring at the bakery at times.

But at the end of the day, he would retire to his room. It had, somehow, became 'his' room in the duration of his stay. Cristina often recommended to it as that, anyways. John didn't visit; he was off playing ball with his friends, forgetting about the man who was so mysterious and dark, like a fallen angel.

Daniel looked at his hands. They didn't deserve life. He didn't deserve life. So why was he here? Why was he living, breathing, still alive? What was his purpose? Surely, he couldn't go back to being an archeologist. He knew so much, yes. Maybe he could be a teacher. Was he fit to teach? Was he fit to tell the tales of woven gods and old myths? Could people trust him? Hell, could he trust himself?

So many questions, but no answers. It was frustrating; because he couldn't ask these questions to anyone but himself. Who else would answer? Answer him honestly, at least. No one. No one understood what happened. And he would never tell. It would be a secret that would be held with him until his grave, he swore to himself it to be so. How long could he hold that promise? What would he hold it with? His life? His sanity? Everything was just so worthless.

"Daniel?" Cristina peeked over the edge of the door. Daniel looked at her with glossy, empty eyes. "It's morning. Would you like something to eat?"

How odd. He didn't get a wink of sleep. In fact, all he was doing was sitting there in his bed all day, reminiscing. Lantern was still fully lit by his side, he assured himself every night that nothing was out to get him and no one would come for him. He was safe. He was free. He would have to remind himself.

Daniel nodded anyways, still refusing to speak much. Cristina started to leave the room, but as soon as the door was shut, Daniel said softly, "I'll be gone soon. Just hold on."

Cristina bit her lip and shook her head. He didn't understand how quietly he had slipped into their family. Daniel was introverted to the point of someone having to take care of him, but he had somehow made it into their family nonetheless. He belonged in her heart like a son. She couldn't bear to see him like this. And she always knew her big heart would get her into pain one day.

Everyday, he had started to say that. It made Cristina's chest ache every time she heard it; it was the only thing he ever said. The promise of his absence, like his very being was a sin. Did he think of himself like that? That he was an abomination to mankind? She had heard him say it. She had _heard. _With her ears, she heard him curse his own existence.

Perhaps that was why her heart hurt.

* * *

It was his second week. He was very close to his goal. Just a few more bits, and he was so close to getting home. So close to seeing Hazel, beautiful Hazel with her sweet smile and her honey brown hair. His little sister was his world. And his world had been empty for so long now.

"Ah, h-hello?" Daniel looked up from wiping the tables. It was that stuttering girl, Lila. The one who blushed whenever she saw him and came over for bread filled with sweet bean paste, it might've been her favorite.

Daniel wiped the sweat from his brow. "Mark isn't here at the moment," he said quietly. Indeed, Mark had gone off to pick up John from school and left the store to Daniel. The least he could do now was register things. "Can I get you something?"

Lila hesitated, then nodded. "May I get that sauerkraut german bread? My sister does enjoy it, and she's been sick recently." Lila had a sad smile on her face, and Daniel swallowed as he heard the news. A flash of his own sister's face passed. He went behind the counter and brought out two breads of her choice, placing it inside wax paper and then finally inside a brown bag.

He gave it to the woman, but when she looked inside, she flushed. "I only have money for one bread - "

"Take both."

Lila blinked, mouth opening and closing. She was utterly shocked - and perhaps even a little charmed - when Daniel gave her his best smile, the first he had done in five years. Genuine and all, even if it _was _shaky. "And tell your sister to get better quickly to make you stop worrying, okay?"

She nodded quietly, stunned. Then, leaving money on the table, she made her way out of the bakery, still in a trance. Daniel's smile slipped off his face and he began to work again. Never again would he have a reason to smile. It hurt too much. And for some reason, he didn't feel like he was only talking about his smile.

Mark came in after an hour, and found Daniel sprawled on the ground of the kitchen.

* * *

Dizzy was the first thought that came to mind; dizzy, with blurred and bleeding colors and his heartbeat quickened before it regulated again. He blinked, and it was only the light blaring at his eyes. He closed them quickly.

"You got hurt." Cristina's voice was pin-pointable from the others. She was talking under her breath, almost as if she was afraid someone would hear her. "Want to tell me how you got down there?" No longer was her voice calming, but rather worried and a little bit tense.

...

Daniel didn't say anything. What was there to say? The sudden images of his sister Hazel and her sweet smile, the large frightened eyes of the girl who had nearly sent him to madness, the screams of the women, men, all that he'd tortured...they just popped into his mind like a balloon, inflating before it really did the damage. All at once, it came crashing. He could feel the blood on his fingers. He could hear the ringing of pleas in the air. He could imagine the saw cutting through flesh and the twisted angles of the broken body...

A shiver, violent and cold, ran through him and he involuntarily flinched as his breath caught. "No," he whispered, not being able to tell the difference between mind and reality anymore. It was all _red._ "No, no, no please no stop no..."

"Daniel? Daniel!"

Voices mingled and mushed and become father north. The world sucked in and disappeared, time seemed like ages away. Walls of warm brown became peeled, thin paper of the 1700's, electric lights were replaced with candles.

He was standing, suddenly, in an old familiar room with cells of rusty iron bars and last moments and desperate clawing. He saw himself from an angle, at the side of a cell, the only one there. It was like he was on the outside looking in; an almost outer-worldly feeling of seeing himself.

Daniel never realized how horrible he looked, if this person was how he seemed like to others; brown hair limp, dark eyes wide and confused and half-mad. His cheeks were gaunt, his cheekbones sallow. His face pale and worn, almost like he was older than he really was.

And then...and then the blood. The blood. God, it was everywhere.

Painted on his arms and legs and dripping from the walls and pulsating off the floors like it was _alive _-

He screamed.

"Daniel..." Tones of desperate, innocent survivors, shaking walls and crumbling stones and blood. "Daniel..." When he screamed, there was no one to hear him.

The world went deaf in a second; Daniel the second made a mad lunge at him, crying and trembling and shouting. "Why!" he asked, clawing at iron bars until his nails broke and his flesh chaffed. "Why must you be such a monster?" And the truly scary thing was, the longer he stood there, blood cakes on every inch of his body while looking at Daniel II, the more he felt those words hit him. Daniel II was more human than he was.

He wasn't human. There was no human who could do such a thing to another person - another living, breathing person.

"_Daniel!_" A sharp voice brought him back to reality - but was it reality? Which one was real and which one wasn't? - and he found John above him, worried and looking slightly irritated. His features softened however, when Daniel awoke. The blonde sat beside him on the chair. "Thank god you're up - mum was seriously worried about you. Dad practically fainted himself."

Daniel paused for a second, before opening his mouth to speak. "Can you tell them that I'm sorry for worrying them?" he croaked. There felt like something was blocking his throat and it ached. John looked at his appraisingly.

"You should do that yourself," the boy said wisely. "It means more that way."

"...I'm not the wisest of people."

He heard John chuckle, but he meant what he had said; nothing he did made sense anymore. Why? Why was he so stupid? Daniel sighed, the action hurting his chest greatly. "I don't like talking much either," he muttered, remembering the last dying words of every prisoner that looked his way. Why should he talk when they didn't get the chance to? "So just...tell them, yeah?"

John mused the thought for a while, but sighed. "Sure. On one condition."

It had been a long time since anyone had asked anything of Daniel, save him asking himself. He raised an eyebrow in question; _what? _John grinned and leaned forward, looking a little resentful. "Could you tell me why _you _came out of the castle?"

The ex-archeologist blinked in confusion. "What?"

"I had a brother," John said, looking away. "He was kidnapped last year, and then no one could find him for a long time. Eventually, they all just gave up. But then, a few months later, they found him on the coast of Brennenburg hill, mutilated beyond belief, rotten and spoiling like old meat. His mouth was wide open, like he was screaming out to someone before he died. I remember the whole thing."

Daniel felt a pang of despair settle in his stomach.

"So I'm asking; why did _you _come out of the castle?" John didn't need to say it, but Daniel understood; _why did _you _come out of the castle...alive?_

"I don't know," he said finally, desperately. "I don't know." And he wished that he didn't.

* * *

**_| Updates | _**_Ahem...sorry? For the late update? BUT. You guys should go play Amnesia: Justine. It's like, 20 times scarier than Amnesia: TDD. So serious. Fucking thing caused a nightmare. And I keep jumping at every little sound after writing a chapter of this...*groan* This story just might make me go insane. _

**_| Next Update | _**_April 31st. Chapter Three; "Desperation". _


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